Discussion
by BilboMcSwaggins
Summary: Trapped, Isaac and Carver take the time they have to recollect over the grief from their lives. PTSD-Centered story. Takes place later on in the story, around the time of the Awakened DLC. No spoilers.


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The sound of metal clinking echoed throughout a hallway. It was faint in the beginning, and resonated in pairs. The source could not be seen, though. Only the depth of darkness laying at the hallway's end.

It came closer, and more perceptible within seconds.

Now the clinking could be heard loudly, and accompanied with a metallic ring after each footfall made contact with the floor. Panting was next, but its volume became equal with that of multiple monstrous claws scraping and sliding against the walls.

No voices could be heard, this was a silent chase.

Without pausing, one of the men snuck a quick glance behind and fired a final shot towards their pursuers. The flash lit up the corridor for a split second, and horrifyingly revealed the number of Necromorphs climbing against the walls and flooring. But this ended as soon as it began, and the darkness returned.

Now the entirety of the situation could be heard, loud and clear. They were approaching the door. Horizontal windows along the left wall gleamed with the planets and stars of outer space, finally giving a low glow to the ending of the hallway.

The men had full visibility of the doorway. Their escape, hopefully.

"... Carver! This-" he panted "This could be locked!"

"I know, but this is all we got!" Came John's equally exhausted and concerned response.

"That was my last bullet, what the FUCK will we do if we're cornered here?!" Isaac yelled.

No answer came, instead Carver threw his shotgun over his shoulder and angrily panted as he broke into a sprint.

Isaac was falling behind.

The door was now feet away from the pair and the Sergeant gave himself a boost with the suit's thrusters, and slammed into it in the process. This was enough, and his panicked act proved to be of use once the door's sensors instantly activated. He clambered inside on his hands and knees, and stayed low as his comrade leaped over him and rolled further into the room. John sprang up to his knees and punched an emergency lock button, and the growing moans of Necromorphs were cut short by the door slamming closed. Their bodies collided with it. Only once he could see the door sealing itself did he inhale again.

The pair's rugged breathing was the only sound filling the room, besides drowned snarling of the monsters outside. Carver snapped his head up towards the other man, and the rest of the room. It was small, what seemed to be some sort of conference area as an oval table stood further towards the back, along with a holographic image flickering on top of it. No more enemies were in sight.

He lowered his head. In a slow motion he raised a hand to the back of his helmet and slid it off. He dropped it to the floor and stared in front of himself, gaining back his breath.

"Fuck man, FUCK." Isaac also continued panting, and let out lighter breaths after he removed his helmet.

Carver crawled closer to the other man, past him in fact, and leaned against the table.

"How long do you think it'll last?"

Isaac huffed. "Shit, I don't know!"

Carver looked to the door silently. It was standing its ground well, but they both knew that the monsters on the other side would stay there, now screeching and banging harshly. And they would remain doing that, for a long time.

John then turned his attention to scanning the walls of the room, and spotted a vent at his right. This one was located along the floor. He had an idea.

"Isaac... I don't want to stay in this room, we gotta get out of here."

Blue eyes glanced back to him, and he continued before being interrupted.

"I don't want to sit around for Satan knows _how_ long, and have that door possibly come crashing down with those bastards. I'm gonna climb into this vent and see what it leads to."

Of course, his partner had no say of what he could and could not do. But they now made eye contact and John awaited any agreeing response. Almost as _if_ needed permission. The other poor man was still struggling to regain his breath, but he responded with a tired "Nothing else we can really do...".

They both carried their helmets and crawled towards the vent. Carver motioned for the other to wait, before he broke the metal rafts in one swift motion with his elbow. He proceeded inside. Not one of them spoke a word as Isaac waited outside. Neither of them would admit, but even with Isaac's superior experience in outer space and handling these situations, many times the Sergeant would take the lead in his own... Interesting way...

Another crash of metal sounded in the room and the Engineer jumped at this one, thinking it was the door. Though he registered it as another vent. This meant it was safe, wherever his comrade was off to. He ventured into the vent as well and met Carver at the other side. Both stood and held their helmets in front of them like flashlights, too tired to wear them and too lazy to use their weapons' lights. Beams of aqua blue and deep red flooded the room and occasionally mixed into purple as they overlapped. The men scanned every surface. They were now in an even smaller room.

"What is this?" Clarke asked.

"I don't know, a... Storage room?"

Isaac hummed. He remained standing in place as he voiced a thought. "We gotta take a break. I can't keep going on tonight. Or today, whatever the fuck time it is."

"Yeah." Carver wanted to chuckle at the statement. But he couldn't. Humor lingered in Isaac's choice of words, but his tone lacked any lightness. More so, it resonated with a slight bitterness. Carver had noticed that recently. Almost as if the man had no heart put into his spoken observances or thoughts. _Or maybe just with a heavy heart_ , he thought. The Engineer had also been giving off very irritable vibes, not so much towards his military friend but with the universe itself. And now after hours of sneaking throughout this ship for supplies that they have yet to find, they are empty of ammunition. And just about trapped. _Understandable._

Carver scratched his head and glanced on either side of him. There was another door at the entrance of this room, and tall shelves along the wall to its left. They were cluttered with boxes of what seemed to be data files and vanilla folders. Various metal pieces lay about, scattered on shelves and the ground. Towards the back of the room was a white wooden desk, random chairs and (surprisingly) paper books. Also taller objects blanketed in white protective sheets. Despite the small messes, this space seemed generally clean. _Untouched._

Isaac read John's mind. "Not a single drop of blood in here..." His voice was quiet.

John remained silent.

Another few seconds passed. "Looks like we can lay low in here, for now."

The Sergeant agreed. "Not much else we can do."

"Maybe they will eventually go away, if we move quiet as a mouse."

"Mhmm."

Slight of an hour had passed. Carver was sitting against the room's back desk with weapons beside him. He was armor-less, wearing a cotton long-sleeved top with brown trousers. Isaac had returned to their makeshift entrance at the vent and, with the help of kinesis and a torch, repaired and reinforced the bars. A small blockade was also created at his hands.

The sound of metal clinking on the floor brought John's eyes upwards. Isaac had now casually set aside his helmet and proceeded to remove his suit all together. He wore a thin gray sweater and casual straight jeans, small traces of dried sweat and blood stained in various areas of his attire. He carefully laid each armor component onto the floor next to Carver's, and set his helmet atop the pile. The Soldier watched as his friend stayed crouching in front of it, hands lingering on each side of the helmet as he randomly stared at it. Unbeknownst to John, all that Isaac saw when gazing into his helmet were his own eyes looking back at him. His eyes full of terror, anger, resentment and grief. Everything that has plagued him since stepping foot out of their solar system.

Isaac noticed multiple splotches of blood painted onto the helmet. Distant screams began sounding in his head, voices familiar and far, all of which belonged to the victims lost before his eyes. He wiped at a newer spot of blood, though instead of fading, its darkness smeared along the metal surface. In a small panic he used the end of his shirt sleeve and began furiously rubbing at the stain. The screams intensified. Some of them were desperate wails of his name. He felt a wave of heat rush over his face, which contrasted entirely with the deep chill that shook him from the inside. He let out a quiet breath as his face scrunched up in frustration. His name became louder with each scream. The helmet's bronze shade was becoming darker with the spreading smudges of blood. _It's not coming off, it won't-_

"Isaac?"

He dropped the helmet onto the pile of armor beneath it.

Carver could only watch in worry as the Engineer, who was now on his knees, returned to reality. Realization creeped over his face and he slowly sat upright, and stared above where the helmet lay. His eyes flickered to the Sergeant before going to the floor in embarrassment. He let out a surprised chuckle at his own insanity. A tense silence filled the room with neither of them knowing what to say.

Carver ended it, with a quieter repeat of Isaac's name. And surprisingly, waved him over with a "c'mon". The brunette obliged to the invitation and without eye contact shuffled to his friend, and sat next to him.

"You were right earlier, when you said we gotta take a break. Funny that you kept working after that, I think you need to take your own advice a little sooner." At this point in their relationship, Isaac understood the utter care laced into those words. Harsh as they may have seemed, Carver's tone also held nothing close to aggression. It was soft and knowing.

The blue-eyed man joined the other in leaning back against the wooden desk and let out a sighed "Yeah...". They slightly pressed against each other from the sides, and Carver's physical warmth was honestly more comforting to Isaac than he'd ever expect. The other man didn't seem phased at all, awkwardness of close proximity and the 'Alpha Male' pride he once held had long since diminished.

They sat in a shared silence.

"Look man, I know there is so much, too much, to talk about. Too much to comprehend..." He trailed off. "I don't know what's going on in your head, and I can't understand what's going on in mine. But I think whenever it's absolutely unbearable, we should talk about it, or something. But of course, I know it fucking sucks to even begin thinking over it again."

Isaac was silent, listening. Carver took this as an invitation.

"I told you before how I have to pay for what I've done in the past, great debts that I have to own up to. I never told my wife about my job, back at the Defense Force on Earth. All I can say is that line of work, to this point, turned me into the jackass I am today." Isaac smirked with amusement. "But... keeping these secrets from her, and never being around to see my son. Man I can't believe that I didn't think about it at the time. How it would _fuck_ me up. And more important, ruin their lives." A tone of old regret seeped into his words. Isaac realized his partner's demons beforehand, back when John's first hallucinations began, and eventually morphed into a complete disfigurement of his reality. Hell, even before _that_. Their initial introduction to each other wasn't the most sunny. Along with Carver's rough attitude and sarcastic comments he would slide now and then.

Now he purposefully kept his mouth closed, as the Soldier's reminiscing was not only letting out his own steam but also soothing to Isaac in an odd way. Almost like a distraction from his psychotic fit minutes ago.

"And I knew, I _knew_ I wasn't being the father that I could've been. I was selfish. I loved my family of course, but I was ignorant enough to let the missions from work hold more importance than the ones I hold dear. I only isolated myself more over the years. I felt like I could only prove myself by being some "Tough Guy". I was quiet in the beginning of my military career, I did keep to myself during the many trainings. But that shit don't last for long. And soon enough it became a part of me, this persona I developed. And I brought it with me every day coming home. Or at least the days I _did_ come home...". Heaviness was now very clear in his voice. "And now, as we're fucking stranded here in space, I can only have constant regret killing me from the inside. I can't ever get it out man, how am I supposed to? How am I supposed to "let go" of this shit knowing that the last memory my family has of me, is me being a pathetic... a pathetic fucking mess!" He threw his hands out in exasperation.

Isaac took a few moments to register the information and carefully calculate his response.

"Carver... They knew you were a hard worker. Even if you didn't tell them about the job, and it ended up changing you, you tried. You supported your family, along with your wife, and I'm sure she knew that. And counting the nights you _did_ come home, remember that each of those were a night you could've spent away, or never returning at all. Now don't get me wrong, I know that you gave off that jackass vibe" Carver huffed. "But minus all of the negatives, you wouldn't of been there for them at all if you didn't care, trust me. Government contract or not, and staying with them instead of moving onto some base yourself... That alone shows that you loved them. At least to me, it does. I think that you're entirely missing all of the good deeds that you have done, even the small ones-"

"I attempted suicide, Isaac."

The sentence was cold and cut short. Isaac felt the breath leave his body.

"And she found me like that. Babbling with excuses and suddenly trying to convince her that it was all okay. Nothing has ever been the same after that happened."

Isaac was still at a loss of words. But his encouragement resurfaced within moments as he tried a different route of speaking, though not drifting from the topic.

"I am so sorry."

"For what?"

 _Damn._ He felt like that would be the response.

"You know what I mean. This is obviously affecting you so much, John. It has been for a long time, as I can tell. You've always cared, if you didn't then we wouldn't be sitting here discussing this right now. I can't give you insight for the future of course, but as for the past... I kind of view it like trial and error. Even if it takes years of each trial, and each error. Right, you've made mistakes. But you've always felt something along the way, after every single thing that has happened. And you're improving yourself, you're recognizing all of these things. Now I'm not gonna say the "It's never too late" bullshit, but in a way I can apply it. Because I can tell you right now that even in the hard times they have always appreciated you, and they would only want what's best for you. You're still around, so it's up to you now to _do_ what's best for you, ya know?"

It may've not been the greatest advice, but in this moment it was the best that Isaac could offer.

He turned his head to the other man, who was staring off with a distressed expression on his face. His eyes were teary. He nodded and a single drop rolled down his left cheek, then one from the other eye. He tightened his lips and hung his head. Isaac silently wrapped his right arm around the man's shoulder and brought him tight against his side. A quiet whimper sounded from the Soldier and his frame shuddered. Isaac's heart sank. Minutes passed by with Carver silently crying, accompanied by occasional sniffling and wiping of tears. The Engineer did all he could, and resorted to rubbing the man's back slowly and patting him, and his free hand resting on the man's knee.

Long minutes passed, and Isaac's arm eventually returned to holding his friend close as they sat in the quiet room. He completely forgot about the Necromorphs lurking outside, they must have lost interest at this point. Though he pushed the thought of reality away again and resumed consoling his colleague.

"Isn't funny how I planned on having you talk for once, and explain to me what's going on with you? Before I broke out into my rant, of course." The Sergeant admitted, with a small dose of humor in his expression.

"Oh no, I honestly enjoyed listening to your shit. You've always been an angry person, dude. It's about time you told me why." Isaac returned the playfulness.

John chuckled at the comment and nudged into the other man, then sniffled again. He then felt his cargo pockets and pulled a paper out of one, which he used to finally blow his nose and breathe again. When he finished he crumpled the paper and threw it. He once again laid his head upon the back board of the desk and let out a long sigh.

"I want ice cream."

Isaac let out a snort of laughter at the randomness, but he could only agree as he felt the painful wave of nostalgia flood over him. Simple luxuries such as that, he missed dearly.

Though, Carver switched back quickly. "But for real, will you be okay man? I don't like seeing you... Struggle... with what's going on inside."

Isaac turned to him. "Yeah, yeah I'll live. You know, it does get to me too. So you're definitely not alone in that."

"What is it, exactly?" Carver's eyes held more curiosity than he allowed his words to reveal.

The Engineer took a long breath.

And for the remaining hours of their consciousness, Clarke shared his own stories. His work before the space travel, the nightmarish reality and horrors back on Ishimura, and the ones until now. His points of complete emotional, spiritual and mental detachment. His regrets, his losses and grief. He managed to hold himself a little more together than Carver did, but he did feel the emotion nonetheless, and John knew.

They eventually laid side by side as they spoke, making pillows out of the chair cushions they pulled off and using other various materials lying around to their comfort. The conversational topics changed as their exhaustion grew, laying on their sides facing each other and laughing with old funny stories to finally laying on their backs and staring at the ceiling, sharing occasional eye contact as they reminisced.

Purposefully, Isaac did avoid mentioning their current situation, and the future, as much as he possibly could. The past did hurt to talk about, whether it be good or bad memories. It was all either guilt-ridden or nostalgic in the end. But that was okay, to both of them. Isaac felt an unfamiliar warmth in his heart and stomach when chatting with the Soldier. It felt as if he was speaking to an old friend, reminiscing the good old days and catching up on their current lives. And honestly, Carver felt the same.

Perhaps this break was what the two of them really needed, at least before they would continue their journey once they wake.

Moments like this tied their bond, and they both enjoyed every second of it.

And every once in a while, these special times of sharing ideas and dwelling in the past, really did help for the future.

 **END**

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I've began typing this story months ago, and I somehow forgot about its existence until recently. Just a little one-shot idea I wanted to do, which was really my excuse of trapping them in a small room together. Haha. In my Dead Space ideas and stories, I really do try to bring these characters together. At least more so on a personal level. And I love making them talk a lot, kind of opening them up in my own way. I greatly enjoyed the dialogue and interaction between them throughout the game, even in the tough times I felt like they eventually grew to understand one another. All-in-all, no matter the complaints that Dead Space 3 got from some folks, I genuinely enjoyed the game and the co-op, Isaac and Carver's relationship was an interesting dive for me.

Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed. I feel like this story switched constantly back and forth between their two points of view so I tried to lessen it, and I ended up focusing on Isaac's mindset towards the end.

If interested, I also post fanart on instagram ( alleycat221). I have a few dead space pieces and I plan to do more, hopefully.

Thank you very much for reading.


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